Without Saying (Post 9x05)
by spectersanatomy
Summary: How Donna comforts Harvey after his argument with Mike in 9x05.


Here is a little short something I did after watching 9x05.

I love Mike to bits, but I absolutely HATE the way they brought him back. It seemed really out of character for him to come back just to beat Harvey in a battle he had rigged months ago. And did you see how broken he looked after Mike stormed out - my heart!

Anyways, I hope you enjoy this.

* * *

Half an hour ago, Donna had tried to comfort Harvey after his row with Mike. Half an hour ago she had reached out and placed her arm on his shoulder and squeezed it firmly. Half an hour ago he had rushed out of the apartment, tears in his eyes and not telling her where he had gone. Half an hour ago she had been left alone in his apartment, staring at the smashed glass on the floor and frozen in the silence where the words of their argument still echoed.

Now she sits on the couch, an untouched glass of wine on the table before her, her glassy, tear filled eyes watching the flames in the fireplace dance. She no longer wears the black dress she had worn to work that morning, but is instead sits in a pair of leggings and one of Harvey's Harvard sweatshirts. It smells of him. It is warm and comforting and makes her even more terrified of where he possibly could have gotten to, but it makes the empty apartment seem a little less empty.

* * *

"Harvey," was all she had said once Mike had left, unsure of what she could possibly say or do to make him feel better.

She was Donna and she didn't know what to do.

Harvey would never admit this, but he had been beyond excited to see Mike, like a father whose son has come home for the holidays. No one but her had seen his eyes light up when he had knocked at the door that evening, or the excitement in his voice when he had first found out that Mike was in town. And no one but her had seen the empty look in his eyes when Mike stormed out.

Donna adored the kid, but she wanted to kill him for making Harvey feel like that.

Without saying a word, he had walked over to the table and poured himself a glass of scotch. He held it up to his mouth, his hand shaking and touched the glass to his lip.

"Harvey, I really think we should t-"

Before she could even finish her sentence, he had turned and hurled the glass at one of the tall columns that stood in his apartment. As soon as the glass made contact with the concrete, it smashed, leaving glass fragments and the beverage inside it on the floor around it. Donna didn't say anything, but a piece of glass had nicked her leg. She would sort it out later though, because right then, he needed her. She had made her way over to him carefully, avoiding the glass on the floor, and placed a hand on his shoulder.

And then he left.

* * *

With the glass now cleared away, she can do nothing but wait.

Her knees are huddled up to her chest as she leans into the arm of the couch, her hands resting on top of her knees and her fingers lacing and unlacing as she tries to find some way to pass the time. Every breath she takes in feels shallow and she begins to pull at her fingers without realising, subconsciously counting to try and distract herself.

She reaches out for the wine and just as she is about to take a sip, she hears keys fumbling in the lock outside. Not even taking a breath, she puts down the glass and runs to the door, pulling it open to reveal Harvey standing there, breath shaking and cradling his right hand in his left.

He doesn't even wait for her to say anything, just walks in and stands for a moment, as though he doesn't know where to go, looking lost in his own home. She waits for a second, taking in the pained look on his face, the hurt in his eyes, his shaky, rapid breathing and the blood on his hand – then she is next to him.

Before he knows it, she has embraced him and he has collapsed into her, putting all of his weight onto her as she holds him up. Her frame looks tiny engulfed in his sweater, but she is strong, and she figures that, although it hurts, she can hold him up like that for as long as he needs her to. Despite the fact that her knees are bending below her and her legs are shaking, she can bear it. She can bear it for him.

His tears eventually slow down and his heart stops pounding against her chest. He can see clearly again, hear again, and he slowly loosens his grip on her.

It is only then that he feels the pain in his hand, and he looks down to see the bruised, bloody mess before him. Her eyes follow his down to the hand and then back up to meet his. They are full of pain, staring back at her and her heart breaks in two there and then.

Minutes later she is dabbing at his hand and attempting to clean it. She hasn't asked him how it happened; he'll tell her eventually. It isn't broken though; he can move it ever so slightly. She finishes bandaging it up and looks to the ground, not wanting him to see the pain in her own eyes now that it is beginning to fade from his.

"I punched the mirror." He says quietly, and she looks up. "In the bathroom. I argued with Samantha and then I punched the mirror because I was so mad."

He sounds so ashamed of himself and she reaches out to touch his face gently and comfort him.

With their eyes fixed on each other's, she can't look away to stop the tears that are forming, and when one slides down her cheek, he reaches out to wipe it away.

"Hey, what are you crying for?" He asks, smiling softly and running his non bandaged hand through her hair.

"I was just so scared and I-" she pauses and waits for him to nod before she continues, "I never should have let Mike speak to you like that."

It's her who now sounds ashamed as she expresses the guilt she feels.

"I'm okay, see?" He says, cradling her face in his own and moving in to fill the inch between them, placing a soft, tender kiss on her lips. "Well apart from the hand, but you fixed that up."

A smile begins to grow on her face, although the tears are still there.

"And look we're gonna have to come up with a story fast before Faye sees that mirror."

"What would she be doing in the men's bathroom?" She asks back, beginning to laugh.

He doesn't reply, just smiles back, watching her begin to cheer up again and seeing the light return to her eyes.

"I'm sorry I scared you, Donna." He says eventually.

And there they stay, not noticing the minutes that pass as they embrace on the couch, leaning into each other and saying everything without saying a word.

He loves her. He will do anything to keep her safe and happy.

And she loves him. She loves him more than she has ever loved anyone, and she would die if anything ever happened to him.

* * *

I hope you enjoyed! Please leave honest reviews, it makes my writing better!


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